If Nothing Else, Then Tunes.

It’s already halfway through the year, and I haven’t skimmed the surface of what may constitute my favorite album releases, or general, time-unbound favorites that have defined my year! So here’s the essential ensemble soundtrack to my journey through Japan that spanned February to May:

…For the first month, it was nothing but

Miss Anthropocene by Grimes

= Tokyo shadows, Kyoto Karasuma-Oike, and Osaka bridges.

–all day, every day. This album came out a few weeks before I landed in Tokyo and started exploring the city in mid-February. I’d definitely turn it on while bored on the subway only to subsequently press pause because of incessant announcements from the intercom and generally obstructive vehicular noises. Then immediately hit resume upon reaching my destination.

I intentionally pushed the snooze button on this album because I wanted to devote my full attention to it, which I figured was most possible starting the 2nd week in Japan, when I’d start living in a remote suburb of Tokyo, away from all the lights and hubbub. I listened to it so much in Ome that I don’t have a super emotionally salient memory attached to it besides crossing the bridge at twilight to gather groceries and feeling like an urban badass in a small town.

However, I do remember what I was doing the first time I turned it on: getting ready to bag up the innumerable dead leaves in my host’s winter-ravaged garden. Every day I’d be assigned housework along with at least 2 hours of removal-based yard work, like back-breaking weeding. Sometimes when we are dealt something utterly soul-sucking, it’s easy to wallow in it because melodrama/feeling sorry for ourselves is oh-so attractive. But after a week of playing the victim card, I decided it was best to counter the dopamine-depleting work with dopamine-inducing music, thereby *curbing* the magnitude of ego depletion so I could bring more energy to the rest of my day.

The thought did occur to me that such lifeless work didn’t deserve such life-giving music; how dare I taint this pioneering, genre-defying, decade-defining record, featuring state-of-the-art production, through a context so undesirable? Ultimately, though, there’s no point putting a limit on art just when you need it the most.

For any album that’s dear to one’s heart, it’s normal to be indecisive about your favorite track, especially during that honeymoon period following the first listen (which lasted > a month for me and Miss Anthro). However, hindsight tells me the track I absolutely couldn’t live without was “Before the fever.” The song structure is unique among the rest, essentially featuring something like 2 verses and a pre-chorus that build into an absolutely devastating…chorus? well, climax…until you’re swallowed, slow motion, into a black hole with ghostly bats fluttering out of it. At first I found it rather gimmicky, Claire lowering her register to sound like another emo lo-fi Soundcloud bedroom crooner like Joji, but the hypnotic way she chants “There’s only one way out” eventually had me spellbound.

Hundreds of miles west, “Delete Forever” would accompany me months later on sunny walks, imbued with fond thoughts of the housemates I would return home to later that day but too soon part with for good. The lyrics convey something much darker, but nevertheless, lodged into this memory is where this song belongs. In Yufuin, it evoked a nostalgia for the present; the familiar late-90s, early-2000s Oasis-to-Avril sound, mingled with the Grimes who surrounded my year after graduating college, all flowed into my present chapter, abandoning any doubts that I could escape my past in a new country, while making new memories. To me, it is the most bittersweet song,

• Overall, MA *SOUNDS LIKE*: an intergalactic fashion show with bursts of sword fighting and hand combat a la Gunnm, aka Alita Battle Angel (I wish I knew and liked more manga/anime for the sole reason of imagining them through Grimes’s music) but with attendees here and there sporting neon midriff tees, fishnets, and those truncated, hella dark 90s sunglasses. Or, just Cyberpunk 2077.
• UNMISSABLE TRACKS: “You’ll miss me when I’m not around,” “Delete Forever,” “New Gods,” “My Name is Dark”
• HOW TO ENJOY: A nighttime stroll that gives life back to the concrete jungle. A late-night rave in your bedroom with your best pair of headphones or surround speakers. A little mobility is necessary.

After Hours by The Weeknd

= Hiroshima & Fukuoka

I anticipated listening to this eventually, not concerned with chasing its March 20 drop date. I guess I wanted to sit it out and see if this work would stay on people’s minds–whether it would really shape into a legendary Abel era and not just a streak of good singles carried by a particularly strong marketing campaign, because, let’s be real, everything this man puts out is decent.

What piqued my interest was hearing his voice dressed in shimmering new clothes, drum ‘n bass dancing across an outdoor marketplace studded with street-wear-clad youths and me as I waited patiently for a “baby” castella parfait from a street vendor. It sounded like Euro-trance of the late 90s/early 2000s, but futuristic at the same time, akin to what I would obsess over in 2 months’ time: Future Nostalgia. I found comfort in others’ comparing the song to the style of The Postal Service, for all those warm synth beats scattering softly into constellations.

As my hostel was a mere 10 minutes’ walk to the Peace Memorial Park (minus the museum) and A-Dome, I didn’t have much motivation to continue trekking across stretches of otherwise unremarkable architecture. However, Hiroshima, Japanese for “broad island,” is a river town, divvied into a couple islets connected by picturesque bridges hoisting pedestrians, cyclists and drivers alike over a distant view of mountains.

On my favorite day venturing out seeking greenery, I failed at two things: waiting until shortly before sunset before arriving at Hiroshima Castle for photos, and waiting until dark (obvi) to listen to the album. Instead, I had it on loop as I circled the castle fortress for hours with the sun glaring at my face—but at least without accompanying bugs.

I returned home via Central Park, home to lovely fountains and statues, like the one on the right of Kato Tomasaburo, but largely a trimmed field with sports teams and friend groups scattered respectfully apart. Crossing over a short hill was when the full drama of the penultimate “After Hours” hit me. It was probably my 7^th time hearing it by this point, so I guess I had a breakthrough. An evening walk in the park has never been as climactic.

Given the exceptional production value, though, I did set aside one quiet bedroom session in which I could envelop myself in the sound of After Hours. Late into the night, propped up in my cozy tatami bunk, the sole occupant of an empty female dormitory at J-Hoppers Hiroshima, I embraced full Weeknd fanaticism, slurping up his latest videos and swaying under the sheets. Not in an “I-have-a-crush-on-you” kind of way, but in the same way a bro like Jon D. appreciates Abel. Yes, I loved this album so much I watched pretty much every reaction video to it.

The swaying continued on the 4 1/2-hour bus ride to Fukuoka, especially during the first 30 minutes when I was overjoyed to settle in after taking the tram during that day’s downpour to the bus station only to wait for 3 hours with pools of rainfall stagnating on my luggage. With “In Your Eyes” commanding me to shake my shoulders, it didn’t matter what I looked like In My Neighbors’ Eyes. During that ride, when not focused on the grooves or on my Kindle, I marveled at the sheer online-shopping stamina of the guys in front of me browsing endlessly for a trendy cross-body fanny pack pouch of the same brand, North Face, in which they were already clad. We would also disembark at a new, exciting rest stop every hour, getting sprayed in the face by swirling late March showers during the first two.

After a smooth ride, I was rudely awakened with not more precipitation, but a downpour of my own idiocy; it took me four times Google Maps’s estimated travel time to locate my Airbnb. This disorientation portended every subsequent return to home base during my stay in Fukuoka, despite coming from the same place each time: Hakata Station.

Coming home involved kicking off the gravel that water had stuck to my shoes. Because I lacked a chair and my beds (yes, two whole space wasters) were basically thinly veiled backstabbers (no matter how fat one’s back would be), and sitting in cafes felt wrong due to COVID-19, I found most of my comfort sitting on trains during two day trips: Nagasaki and Kitakyushu.

Despite all this discomfort, I was especially fond of Fukuoka. Not just in retrospect, but I felt actually happy there. Perhaps the constant rain brought out a sense of grittiness in the city, all against the background of After Hours. My neighborhood for a week was quiet but central. Thanks to the rain, I didn’t feel guilty about skipping the park. And later, I’d find out it was overcoming that very rain that would bring others and me together at last. Stay tuned for the next chapter in my Kyushu journey: my sojourn south.

Oh, yeah, we were discussing After Hours. Final thoughts?

• SOUNDS LIKE: All the highs and lows you can possibly capture in a single night of reckless abandon and raw introspection. A fitting culmination of the Weeknd…it just sounds like this guy’s journey through the spotlight: the glam, the bad, and the ugly
• UNMISSABLE TRACKS: “Snowchild,” “In Your Eyes,” “Hardest to Love,” “Faith,” “Blinding Lights” (due in large part to the music video)
• HOW TO ENJOY: Just take all the locations and situations from the music videos. Bam.